


A Morning with Mick Mundy (Sniper TF2)

by D_cassidy



Series: Morning W/ The Team [1]
Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: Cozy, Gen, Gender-Neutral Pronouns, Morning, Nonbinary, Other, Sniper - Freeform, Sniper in morning, Sniper is soft, Team Fortress 2 - Freeform, gender neutral reader, mick mundy - Freeform, morning time with the lad, morning w/, snuggly morning, tf2
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-09
Updated: 2019-03-09
Packaged: 2019-11-14 12:41:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 775
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18052697
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/D_cassidy/pseuds/D_cassidy
Summary: You enjoy a cozy morning with your love...





	A Morning with Mick Mundy (Sniper TF2)

**Author's Note:**

> Please tell me what you think!  
> Also, if there are any typos, please point them out and I will fix them!

You wake up, eyelids fluttering until your sight comes into focus. You can feel his arm around you and his head nestled up against your hair, his breath is soft and warm. All you can do is smile and wait for him to wake up to; not a chance you’re disturbing him at his most relaxed. So you lay there, one strong arm around you and full heart. You feel safe, warm, calm. You are content. What a way to start the morning.

After a few minutes, you feel a shift in the bed as he starts to wake up. He takes his arm back for his own and sits up in bed, rubbing his eyes and grumbling to himself. He’s not a morning person, you know that. You weren’t either, not for the longest time, but when you got to watch his adorable grumpy routines of waking up that make you giggle so, you became one. You roll over to face him, his eyes meet yours almost immediately.

“Sorry, did I wake you?” He asks in his quite, kind of croaky morning voice that you adore. You shake your head and smile, offering your hand to him. He smiles a little and takes you hand, pecking the top of it, making you giggle a little. He pulls you up gently so you’re sitting up with him, and he wraps his arms around you. “Any dreams, love?” He asks, kissing your forehead, then your cheek. He’s always so soft and gentle in the mornings.

“Not really, but if I did they were probably about you.” You answer him, closing your eyes and laying your head on his chest. You can feel his heartbeat. Calm. Good, he deserves some peace.

You hear him snicker a little bit as he squeezes you in his arms. You stay there for a while, wrapped up in his embrace. The perfect way to start a morning. After a couple minutes you look up at him and peck his lips and /oh/ how it fills you with joy when you can feel him smile into your kiss. You gently cup his jawline with your hands, nuzzling his nose playfully. He puts a hand on your waist and holds you closer for a bit longer, before gently breaking the kiss. When he does he smiles and rests his forehead on yours.

“You grab a show’a, love, and I’ll sta’t breakfast.” You nod and give him another peck before he climbs out of bed, shamelessly sitting back in bed with a shit-eating grin, watching him get dressed. He catch you in the corner of his eye and chuckles, rolling his eyes at you. He puts on boxers, pants, a belt, and a wife-beater, combing his hair back from his hilariously messy bed-head.

After he walks out of the bedroom area, you get out of bed, wrapping yourself in a towel, grabbing your toothbrush and heading to the little washroom in his van. While in the shower, you smell breakfast being made from the other room. Some kind of meat, probably ham or bacon, definitely eggs, and toast he has so clearly put in the toaster for too long. You smile to yourself and rinse your hair, shaking your head affectionately. That’s the third day in a row, when will he learn?

You step out of the shower and draw off, throwing on some underwear and sweatshirt, joining him in the little kitchen/dining room. You see Sir Shootsalot pecking at a particularly burnt piece of toast and Mick plating the rest of the food with a cigarette in his lips. He sets the plates on the tables and smiles at you, ashing his cigarette and tossing it into a coffee can full of fag butts.

You two sit together and chat while eating breakfast, playfully feeding each other, being very affectionate and playful with each other. Breakfast is always delightful.

As you wash the dishes together, there is a sound in the distance, faint, but almost immediately recognizable. Intruder alert. Mick looks at you with distress, he hates leaving you to do the dishes alone, but you just smile at him. You know he has to go, there’s no point into lamenting about that. He nods and quickly puts on his boots, jacket, and vest. You put his hat on his head and hand him his gun, pecking his lips.

“I’ll be back in a bit, love.” He says, giving you one last, long kiss before heading out the door. Normally that would be an empty promise to make someone feel a little safer, but you know he’ll be back. He always is.


End file.
